


Playing Pretend

by galacticmint



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-31 09:43:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20791196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticmint/pseuds/galacticmint
Summary: Set seven years before the game-- Caspar wakes Linhardt up and makes him a participant in his game of make believe. Linhardt doesn't mind as much as he thought he would. Extremely vague & mild spoilers for Edelgard's backstory is mentioned at one point.





	Playing Pretend

**Author's Note:**

> If I'm being honest, I wrote this to snipe the spot of the 100th casphardt fic. Sorry not sorry. Have a great day everyone!

“Halt! Foul villain!”

Ugh. Linhardt’s eyes blinked open, and he leaned a little, looking around the gardens for whoever was making such noise. Surely it was obvious that he was taking a nap. He didn’t even have any lessons today, so why--

Oh. The shouting, which he’d assumed had been directed at him, was coming from a familiar small figure several feet away. In one hand, he clutched a wooden toy sword. His brow was furrowed, and his challenging glare was directed at the tree Linhardt had been sleeping against. Caspar was trying to fight a tree again. That was hardly new.

He yawned. “Can you pick one I’m not sleeping on?” he asked. After all, he was eight years old, and a growing boy-- he needed his rest. Maybe if Caspar napped a little more he wouldn’t be so much shorter than him. He would say so, but he’d mentioned it in the past, and Caspar was always very insulted by the suggestion.

At the sound of his voice, Caspar jolted and stared at him, eyes wide. “You’re awake!” Well, yes. Because he was shouting. “Fear not, fair princess! I will vanquish this dragon that keeps you in its clutches.”

Oh my god.

“Great,” Linhardt said, his voice dry and unenthused. “Can you do it quietly?”

This seemed to make Caspar falter. “B-but, Dad always yells when he trains. He says it’s int-- indimi-- ummm, it’s really scary.”

“Intimidating?” Linhardt said, and Caspar nodded eagerly.

“Yeah! That’s what he said! It’s to scare the bad guys so they know you’re strong.” He hefted the sword again, pointing it up at the branches, where the maw of the beast presumably was. Linhardt wondered if he should make something up to add to Caspar’s game about dragons being deaf, so there was no point in yelling, or about himself being under a terrible curse where he had to sleep or he’d die. It certainly felt true. But that too was exhausting, so he just watched, eyelids and limbs heavy, as Caspar lost interest in their conversation and started to ‘fight’ again in earnest.

Perhaps out of consideration for Linhardt’s current position, he didn’t strike the tree trunk itself with his dull blade, instead waving it at invisible foes-- probably the dragon’s claws and tail, if Linhardt had to guess. He dashed around on the grass, slashing and ducking and shouting out threats.

Linhardt hated training, but he’d been forced to do enough of it to know that Caspar’s form was a mess. He whirled and spun and left huge holes in his defense, big enough that even a dragon would see them. Of course, a dragon would probably just squish him flat no matter what his defense was like, and this was purely imaginary, so Linhardt decided it was too much work to point it out to him. He put his head down on his crossed arms and tried to ignore Caspar’s whoops and shrieks, instead focusing on the noise of the birds in the surrounding trees.

Why was Caspar here in the first place? His father must be here. Probably some sort of meeting. Well, Linhardt wasn’t complaining; Caspar may have interrupted his nap, but his visits were still the most interesting thing that ever happened around here. At least until Linhardt would be allowed in the big library (he’d been told this would occur when he was ten and his patience was running thin). 

His thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of a tiny body hitting his shoulder, and his eyes flew open to find Caspar kneeling by his side, arms around his neck. His eyes were wide with earnest emotion.

“I did it! I saved you, Princess!”

“Sorry, why am I a princess again?” Linhardt asked. He’d met a handful of the imperial princes and princesses, or at least seen them from afar. If Caspar really wanted to rescue a princess, he could go get the one that’d been spirited away to the Kingdom, maybe. That would probably be more productive than fighting a tree.

“‘Cause you were sleeping,” Caspar told him nonchalantly, and then reached over to grab at Linhardt’s hair with his grubby little fingers. “And you’ve got long hair, like a princess!” Linhardt leaned out of his reach, thinking that Caspar had probably read too many fairy tales. Besides, his hair wasn’t that long; it only reached his collar or so. It just hung around his face instead of sticking up every which way like Caspar’s did.

“I see,” he said sagely, still bent half over to stop Caspar from grabbing his hair. “Well, this princess is going back to sleep. Do you need anything else from me?”

Caspar fidgeted, and Linhardt thought, _oh no_. He shouldn’t have asked. 

“It’s just,” Caspar said, and then hesitated. Linhardt waited, hoping he’d chicken out or lose interest as he often did. “It’s just, in the stories the princess _always_ gives the hero a kiss after he saves her.”

Oh. Well, if it’d make Caspar be quiet… Linhardt sat up, regarding him thoughtfully. His cheeks were a sticky mess, probably from some kind of sweet bun or pastry he’d eaten on the way here, and he had a smudge of dirt on the tip of his nose. One side of his forehead was obscured by a small bandage, but the other side was fairly clear. Linhardt made his decision. “Alright,” he said, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to the clear area of Caspar’s forehead, one hand on his shoulder to steady him. “I hope that’s sufficient,” he said, settling back against the tree trunk. Really, he had to be getting back to his nap. It wasn’t often he got a free day.

Caspar bolted to his feet. “Hahayepthatworks,” he said, all in one breath, and Linhardt blinked up at him silhouetted against the sun. Was his face red? Odd, to be embarrassed by such a thing. Linhardt’s mother kissed his forehead the same way some nights, and Linhardt never found it particularly embarrassing. Besides, Caspar had asked for it in the first place. He watched, puzzled, eyes shaded from the sun by one hand, as Caspar dashed off across the gardens.

Caspar’s wooden sword lay on the grass nearby, forgotten. Chasing after him would be too much work, but maybe later in the week they could pay a visit to his family to return it. Linhardt felt himself smile at the thought, and he stretched and snuggled against the tree. Yes, that was a good idea. But for now, he was going back to sleep.


End file.
